


A Dark Home

by okkaykate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okkaykate/pseuds/okkaykate
Summary: “Where does it hurt?” The doctor had inquired. In response, the man only breathed shakily, his lungs nearly collapsing from the weight of each inhale.  The man was standing, all too aware of his senses and what lingered around him. Even after the doctor had told him to sit and make himself comfortable, he could not.





	A Dark Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote months ago for a contest and I didn’t win, so here you go if you fancy reading chaos. Please ignore all the formatting errors I don’t care for them rn.

“Where does it hurt?” The doctor had inquired. In response, the man only breathed shakily, his lungs nearly collapsing from the weight of each inhale. The man was standing, all too aware of his senses and what lingered around him. Even after the doctor had told him to sit and make himself comfortable, he could not.

He could not breathe it seemed. His tears streamed down easily from excruciating pain and the being plaguing him. His fingers twitched incessantly. “I don’t know... I’m just trapped it’s like— Something is _here_.“ He began, shivering and shrinking at the thought and feeling of it all. He recoiled at his own imagination, clutching at himself intensely, wishing only for the freedom over himself once again. “It just— It hurts.” All the noise shrieked and echoed behind him. “So, so bad.” He croaked, his overwhelmed senses growing berserk at his surroundings. He was just so scared. The man just knew something was behind him. He was too scared to look. It growled and suffocated him.

The man could barely hear the person speaking right in front of him. He was out of control of his own body. His nose ran along with the tears down his face, his expression of weeping. His face was red and yet he felt cold, goosebumps lining his skin. His body felt like it was thrown into the Arctic unclothed, and he was beginning to freeze. His eyes burned from the tears and his throat was hot and rough as if scratched and oozing out fiery blood. The man’s pulse resounded loud in his own ears. He finally eased himself into the chair in a dangerously slow manner, feeling faint. He would have screamed, but he was afraid the monster would stir further and attack him till his end. 

“Sir, sir, sir. Help me.” The man eagerly pleaded in a whisper as if the monster could not hear his words, but the monster could. He tried to stay quiet, but his voice increased in volume with every word, nearly shrieking. His face contorted over and over in terror and fear as he tried to control his tears and voice. “Please, make it stop. Make it stop.” The words fell in almost an incoherent and inaudible vomit. The hairs stood up straight on the man’s neck as the monster breathed upon him, almost a warning, or rather a foreboding threat. The man’s hope was diminishing as his surroundings grew fuzzier, and all he could think about was the entity he felt hovering over him. The man would not even dare to begin describing it nor name it.

The doctor simply asked him where it hurt once more. The man’s mind screamed at the doctor, restless. _EVERYWHERE._ The man could not find his voice though, nor could he move his body in the slightest to gesture around himself. His weeps grew louder, echoing in the back of his own head.

The medical professional inhaled, asking another question of when it started. The tortured man’s eyes darted around the room, looking for anything he could gesture to. At seeing nothing to aid him, he opened his mouth to speak, but again his voice was taken. He tried to mouth the words to the doctor. _LAST NIGHT_. He had no idea if the doctor understood, but he hoped and needed him to. It was his only hope.

The man knew this was no common illness. Maybe it was all in his head and he was simply insane, but the doctor should have known something. He _had_ to know something. If the man was not already insane, he would soon lose all his sanity if this _pest_ did not leave him.

The doctor asked him more questions to which the man was unable to answer. In particular, the doctor asked him what he feared and what haunted him as if the man was only terrorized by his own mind. The man had no idea what he feared other than the fact that he most certainly feared the entity encasing him from all sides. His only thought for an answer, although he was unable to speak it, was that he had no fear and that this being haunting him was fear itself. Incarnated and torturing him. The man could find no sin or deed he had done to lead Fear to him, but nonetheless it was upon him perpetually for the time.

The doctor wrote down some notes on his paper off hand, and the man gasped. Did he find the answer? Would he survive? The man went to stand in eagerness, but the force of his own body and the mere sense of the creature lingering over him grounded him back to the couch.

The man rarely begged for anything, rarely asked for assistance at all, but he needed this heaviness, this monster, to leave him no matter what the cost. His tears gathered once more in an intense pool in his eyes, dripping and spilling over the edge of his bottom eyelids as he clamped his clammy hands together continuing to shake. He then begged the hardest and most passionately he could to the person in front of him. “Stop it, please.” With all his will, he forced the words out in earnest so that the monster could not stop him; however, actions had consequences. 

All the air had left him in a swift moment. The man’s bones became stiff and straightened in his seat. His bones made a multitude of sinister cracks at the movement. His tears entirely ceased. The last remnants of his tears dribbled down his face and landed onto his own grey sweatpants, marking its spot indefinitely. No more.

As the darkness exploded around him, the man breathed in the suffocating air. He fixed his gaze on the doctor, letting his shakiness settle. His countenance was blank, but his eyes were sharper than ice. The doctor gazed back at him with an incredulous look about the man’s sudden steadiness.

The man had made his choice. _It_ had agreed with him immensely. The man’s throat suddenly smoothed alike honey, and the being coated him in a hot warmth, a blanket of satisfaction and pride. The being lurked behind him, anticipating the demonstration of the man’s loyalty. The man groaned softly as he then stood powerfully from his seat. Doubts quickly filtered through him. Would it ever leave him? Would this be forever? The fear tore apart all his thoughts and disintegrated his doubts instantaneously. The man smiled in ignorant bliss. A single tear dropped from him without him registering it. _Yes_ , he would be fine. He had nothing to fear.

The man was no longer burning or freezing. He was only warm. He was only home. “Sir, I think I came to the wrong place by mistake.” His intonation and tone was cherry and soft, nearly with a sickening sweetness. The man approached the doctor, who had wide eyes and leaned back in his chair in his own brand of fear. The man still wore a dashing and toothy smile, not belligerent in the slightest. “I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.”

The man turned away from the doctor, almost laughing at himself, before stepping out of the room with light steps. The doctor would have surely forgotten the man if only he could forget his darkest nightmares.

Once the torn man exited the room and he heard the door shut from behind him, the man noticed the haunting encasing him further. All his surroundings were in a grey mist. The air around him was tainted, but his smile remained etched in his features. His brain could not recall any of his previous thoughts, and yet he was filled with a kind of euphoria and serendipity. He still felt the burden of weight from both his own body and another’s; however, he had no fear. His breathing was steady through his shut teeth. The man could feel the blood pulsing through him, and a warm fire burn inside him while his fingertips remained chilled. _Like ice_.

The light outside was hidden in the dark from stormy black clouds, he noticed belatedly.

The world never cried for the man. They had no reason to. The man never cried for himself either.

The only remnants of him had dried on his grey sweatpants, and any essence of him had drifted into nightmares.

He would have screamed. Only if he was able to.


End file.
